‘Shepherd’s huts? But you were so against a caravan park.’
‘There’ll only be three or four shepherd’s huts at the most. That’s if we can get planning permission, of course, but I don’t think it will be a problem. There are a couple of houses along this road that have a static caravan in their gardens which they rent out to birdwatchers and the like. It sort of sets a precedent, doesn’t it? And shepherd’s huts are so unobtrusive. They won’t even be connected to the mains.’
He tapped his phone, showing her the website of Gavin’s friend, who made and sold them. ‘See? Off-grid ones. They’ll have wood-burning stoves so people can stay warm in them, but no electricity or water or waste pipes.’
‘Then, how…?’
‘The extension at the back of the house,’ he said. ‘The utility room and downstairs cloakroom. There’s plumbing already there. We could turn it into a shower block with a couple of toilets.’
‘And what about food and drink?’
‘Bed and breakfast,’ he said with a grin. ‘I’d make them breakfast every morning and take it to their hut, or they could eat in here if they wanted. And I’d provide dinner if they paid extra, or they could go over to The North Star. I could even make them packed lunches. The point is, they’d be warm, comfortable, fed, and there’d be no distractions. Nowhere to plug in their mobile phones or laptops or games consoles. No TV. Just nature and each other, or themselves if they wanted to be alone. You see?’
‘And you really want to do this?’ she asked.
‘I really do, but I know nothing about running a business like this. You’re the one with the hospitality background. What do you say to helping me out?’
Stella shook her head in wonder. ‘You’d really let me be part of this, after what I’ve just done to you?’
‘You’re my sister, Stella,’ he told her kindly. ‘I love you. I’d be so happy if we could do this together.’
She fell against him, and he hugged her to him, stroking her hair as she cried softly against his chest.
‘So,’ he said at last, as her sobs turned to sniffles, ‘what do you say? Partners?’
She nodded and smiled up at him, her eyes red from crying but also bright with a new optimism.
‘Partners,’ she said.
37
Monday 27 April – Project Alison Day 86: This might be my last entry in this journal. I haven’t written in it for ages and there doesn’t seem much to say, except that today I’m going to the surgery to get my blood pressure taken, get weighed, and have my bloods taken again to see if my blood sugar levels have dropped. If they haven’t, I might as well give up now, because I’ve done all I can. I deserve a medal.
No word from Mac. Of course, I don’t want there to be. There wouldn’t be much point, would there? Jenna is talking to me again, so that’s something. It’s a bit awkward, but we’re trying. I haven’t seen Joel, and I don’t want to. I’ve gone right off him. Not a word of apology from him about what he said to me.
Had the twins on Saturday but only for the day. Took them to the park. It was lovely. They wanted to go to Kelsea Sands again, but I told them Mam and Dad were busy, and Rosie was at work. They were really disappointed. I’m having them again the Saturday after next, so maybe I’ll take them to see Niall and Kendra in Millensea. One beach is as good as another when you’re that age, right?
Oh, and my cervical screening results came through. All fine. Another thing ticked off the list, as Mac would say.
Rosie rang to wish me good luck for today. She offered to come with me, but I told her I didn’t want her driving all that way just to hold my hand. I’m a big girl. I can do this. Funny, it really doesn’t feel like such a big deal any more – going to the doctor’s, I mean. Life is certainly strange, isn’t it?
‘Alison,’ the nurse said, beaming at her with delight, ‘you’ve worked a miracle!’
As Alison stepped off the scales she couldn’t help smiling at her obvious approval. She might well approve, too. Alison had lost thirty pounds in three months. Her blood pressure was normal, and the nurse was already sure that her blood glucose levels would have dropped – it was just a question of by how much.
‘What have you been doing? I’d like to tell my other patients the secret,’ she said, as Alison sat back down.
‘I followed the recipes in a diabetic-friendly cookbook,’ Alison said with a shrug. ‘I taught myself to cook from scratch. I think that made a difference.’
With Mac’s help. She hadn’t taughtherselfto cook from scratch. They’d taught each other. She wondered if she should add that it had got a lot easier over the last three weeks. It was amazing how being heartbroken dulled your appetite.
‘Well, I’m proud of you,’ the nurse said. ‘Call the surgery in a few days and we’ll have the results for you. I have a good feeling that you’ll be out of the diabetic range, but I’ll keep everything crossed for you. The main thing now, of course, is to keep going with it. You’ve still got some weight to lose to be in the ideal range for your height, and of course, we need to keep that blood sugar steady, don’t we?’
Oh, dowe? I’m so glad we’re doing this together.
But the nurse was so happy for her, and so full of compliments that Alison couldn’t help but feel good about herself, so she smiled and thanked her, then left, promising to keep up the good work.
She headed through reception, waving a cheery goodbye to the receptionist, and went through the automatic doors into the car park.
